


three strikes

by kamsangi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Bottom Bang Chan, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Mild Degradation, Nipple Play, One mention of explicit sexual content involving Jeongin, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamsangi/pseuds/kamsangi
Summary: Across the small, cramped dressing room in the back of the KBS building, Chan catches Changbin’s eye, and flicks a button open. “Oh no,” he says mildly, “think this shirt’s a little loose.”
Relationships: Bang Chan/Everyone, Bang Chan/Seo Changbin, Bang Chan/Stray Kids Ensemble
Comments: 28
Kudos: 308





	three strikes

**Author's Note:**

> [that single button worked harder in one and a half minutes than i did the entire year](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qhssgXYDiU)

“I’m shy,” he always says. Curled fingers tucked into the sleeves of his sweater, sweet and modest. His hands held up over the lower half of his face, the curve of his embarrassed smile hidden behind them. There’s a soft little laugh in the back of his voice that he always reserves for these moments, his weekly get-together with the fans.

He’s just shy, he says. That’s all he is.

Across the small, cramped dressing room in the back of the KBS building, Chan catches Changbin’s eye, and flicks a button open. “Oh no,” he says mildly, “think this shirt’s a little loose.”

No. He’s not fucking shy, Changbin thinks. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Chan idly undoes another.

They’re on in twenty for pre-recording. Twenty minutes is all Changbin needs to make his excuses to their manager, coax Chan into the little bathroom in their corridor, and lock the door behind them before Chan can even turn around. He steps Chan back into the row of sinks and traps him there, arms on either side of his waist. “The fuck you think you’re doing?”

Chan smiles, baring all his teeth. “Nothing,” he murmurs, chin lifted in defiance, “is it working?”

Their hips press together. Changbin shoves a thigh between his legs and grinds against Chan. Revels in the way his pupils dilate, the way his mouth falls open. His tongue, pink and wet, licking at the back of his teeth, wanting and eager. He’s fucking gagging for it. “Slut,” Changbin says affectionately, and Chan snaps his teeth. “Can’t even wait till we go home.”

“You have to share me when we’re home.” One of his hands paws at the front of Changbin’s trousers, the tips of his fingers hooking into the hem. “I thought I’d let you get a head start.”

“Fuck,” Changbin whispers. There’s absolutely nothing stopping him from getting Chan on his knees right here, right now. Except—he pulls back, and straightens his jacket, watching the disappointment materialise in Chan’s eyes, before he says, “Unbutton the shirt.”

Chan’s eyes flash with renewed interest, and he unfastens the last two, letting it hang loose from his shoulders. He’s all pale skin and toned muscle. Changbin fists a hand in one side, and ducks to close his mouth over one of his nipples. There’s a yelp above him, and Chan’s hand comes up to tighten in his hair. Changbin runs the flat of his tongue across pebbled skin, bites down, and sucks until Chan’s whimpering. He’s so sensitive. Changbin still thinks he should get those piercings like Hyunjin and Minho keep suggesting he should.

When he pulls back, Chan’s breathing heavily through his nose, flush rising in his cheeks. The skin around his nipples is puffy and red, the barest hint of teeth marks running in two pretty little lines across top and bottom. Changbin pinches one, and Chan startles, knees wavering. He’s hard. “There,” Changbin says, and he does one of Chan’s buttons back up. Just one. “I got my head start.”

Chan stares at him, betrayed and breathless, but says nothing as Changbin unlocks the door and leaves him in the little bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re onstage. Chan’s shirt is barely holding together by the one askew button that Changbin hadn’t even managed to do up correctly. Ever the consummate professional, Chan had managed to get back on time looking like he’d never went in, like Changbin had never touched him.

But—right before the doors open on their performance, Changbin shifts close, and under the guise of a side-hug, pats Chan’s chest lightly with one hand. He watches as Chan visibly bites back a sound, and he grins smugly when Chan shoves his arm away, eyes narrowed.

It feels a little like victory, really. The tension and energy crackling between them during each take. Chan getting in close, making eyes at the cameras. Showing off miles of skin. The lighting and make-up covers up a lot, but Changbin’s still close enough to see the way his ears are flushed. The way his cheeks still colour in each time the scratchy fabric of his shirt drags up along his chest. He loves it. Changbin knows he does. Hundreds of thousands of people watching him perform, unknowingly watching him try to hold back how fucking turned on he is, and he absolutely loves it.

Changbin doesn’t even think twice when he sends their monitoring video to the rest of the group after the performance. Thumbs through his phone, clicks send, breaks a dozen broadcasting rules.

He doesn’t care a single bit. Especially not when, forty minutes and a very silent car ride later, Chan’s bent over the kitchen table, fingers scrabbling for purchase each time Minho thrusts into him. He’s naked, skin blotchy with heat and the marks the others have taken turns leaving on him. There’s a particularly dark bruise on his left asscheek from when Jeongin got a bit too enthusiastic eating him out right before passing him off to Minho, overstimulated and ready to come at any time. He watches Seungmin step over to dig his fingers into the bruise, a pleased smile scrawled across his face when Chan moans, breath hitching in his throat.

He’s pretty like this. They still haven’t let him come. They probably won’t for a while, not yet.

“You deserve it,” Hyunjin says, sitting on the other side of the table, eyes fixed on Chan’s face as he touches himself through his sweatpants. “We all saw how fucking needy you were today.”

Minho hauls Chan up by his hips, still inside him, and lets Jisung swoop in to lick into his kiss-swollen mouth, to swallow the soft whine he lets out when Minho sets his teeth against the curve of his shoulder and comes. Face even more flushed than before, probably just at the thought of being stuffed full of their come. “It’s okay, baby,” Jisung coaxes. “We’ll take care of you.”

Of course they will. They always do. Chan knows, and Changbin knows that Chan knows. Chan leans in for another kiss, letting Jisung take him into his arms as Minho pulls out. Changbin takes a step back just to watch the come run down the inside of his thighs.

He’s not the only one. Felix’s eyes are big and earnest when he pushes his fingers into Chan, no resistance whatsoever, gaze stuck on the way Chan’s swollen rim sucks them right in, slick with Minho’s come. “Chan-hyung,” Felix murmurs, voice a rumble, “can I?”

Chan ends up on the couch after that, knees up against his chest as Felix works his fingers in and out of him, bent at an angle that lets him mouth at the head of Chan’s cock at the same time. Chan’s going to come soon, finally. It’s inevitable. The scrunch of his eyebrows, the way his abs tighten up, his plush, gorgeous mouth slack and wide open. He’s going to come on Felix’s fingers and his tongue and Changbin’s going to watch him, just like this.

Fingers, curled into the skin of his own thighs. A long, drawn-out moan, noisy the way he always gets when he’s overwhelmed and close to tears. His head thrown back, shoulders and toes tensed in the same way when he comes in Felix’s mouth, grinding his hips down into Felix’s hand.

Changbin could watch him like this all day.

Felix crawls up over Chan to give him a kiss, and Chan smiles into it, all sweet and fucked out and easy. He lets Felix kiss him once, twice, and another time before Felix pulls back to let Changbin drop to his knees beside Chan and press a kiss to his forehead, smoothing his hair back.

It’s then that Chan notices that they’re all still watching him, some of them still halfway through getting off, and he makes an embarrassed noise, hiding his face behind his hands. There’s a soft laugh in the back of his voice when he says, “You guys.”

He’s just shy, Changbin thinks fondly. That’s all he is.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/SSEOMT) | [cc](http://curiouscat.me/SSEOMT)


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